John Marcone's Precious Little Life
by Davis Johnson
Summary: What if Scott Pilgrim's style of romance  ie victory in mortal combat equals true love  bled over to the Dresdenverse? And what if Marcone had fallen for Harry during their first meeting? This is what would have happened, that's what!
1. Chapter 1

The most important events in one's life are unlikely to present themselves with any kind of obviousness.

Possibly the most important event in mine certainly didn't.

My name is John Marcone, unless you associate yourself with the press, in which case you probably use the media nickname "Gentleman Johnny," to my annoyance. Simply put, I run Chicago. I am in complete control of the illicit side of civilization, and have a fair bit of influence over the "aboveboard" business as well. If anything happens in this city, I'm responsible for it, and if I'm not I soon rectify the matter.

For instance, my bodyguard, Tommy Tomm, had recently been the victim of a supernatural attack, which was a major inconvenience for me. In addition to being one of my most trusted and capable soldiers, Tommy was a good man, and I was genuinely sorry to have lost him. To complicate matters, he was not the only target of the attack – a call girl named Jennifer Stanton, an employee of the Velvet Room, had also been killed. Complicating matters further, the local police force had been called in to investigate the scene, and they had enlisted the help of Chicago's only advertising wizard, one Harry Dresden.

I had heard stories concerning Mr. Dresden, and from what I could gather he would be a valuable asset to Chicago's PD. However, Tommy's death was a personal matter, and it wouldn't do to have the police underfoot while I made my own enquiries as to who would be spending the rest of their short, painful life tied to a pole in a warehouse. Therefore, I was on my way to engage Mr. Dresden in business talks and offer him the opportunity to make a relatively large sum of money for relatively little work.

"There he is, coming out of the building – damn, he's running. You think he saw us?"

My man's voice crackled as it came through my radio – a side effect of magical energies is an interference with electronics, I'd been informed, and there were certainly magical energies left over next to the scene of Tommy's murder. Mr. Dresden had been inside the hotel where the act had happened, presumably consulting with Lt. Karrin Murphy, head of the Special Investigations unit. The SI unit was the department which, officially, handled "abnormal" police cases. In actuality, it was the professional equivalent of banishment – being assigned nothing but "crap" cases was simply the salt in the wound, as it were. Lt. Murphy was high on my list of underappreciated individuals who could almost certainly prove themselves useful when the time was right.

"No, I don't think he has. Do try to catch him, though – I'd rather have this conversation on familiar ground."

I signaled my driver, Mr. Hendricks, and he pulled out from where we had been sitting at the hotel's curb to begin cruising alongside Mr. Dresden as he loped down the sidewalk towards his office. The two men I'd stationed outside the hotel doors were running after him, doing their best to look unobtrusive though they were pushing past quite a few people.

"Pull up ahead of him, if you please."

Mr. Hendricks skillfully pulled the car into an empty parking space approximately half a block ahead of Mr. Dresden and immediately stepped out into his path. Since losing Tommy, Mr. Hendricks had become my personal bodyguard, driver, and second-in-command. At 6' 3" and over 300 pounds of pure muscle, he certainly looked the part of my might and protection, but he'd proven time and again that beneath his beady blue eyes he was intelligent and fiercely loyal.

Mr. Dresden pulled up short as he noticed Mr. Hendricks blocking his path, and I saw recognition dawn on his features as he glanced behind him to see my two men catching up. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

"Get in the car," Mr. Hendricks replied. He may be intelligent, but I will be the first to admit that diplomacy is not one of my second's strong suits.

"I like to walk. It's good for my heart." The reply came naturally, and I quickly surmised that Mr. Dresden was quick-witted and probably a smart-ass.

"You don't get in the car, it isn't going to be good for your legs," growled Hendricks. I winced inwardly as I realized that Dresden was going to assume I'd come to threaten him rather than talk business.

"Mister Hendricks, please. Be more polite. Mister Dresden, would you join me for a moment? I'd hoped to give you a life back to your office, but your abrupt exit made it somewhat problematic. Perhaps you will allow me to convey you the rest of the way."

I could see the interest in his eyes as Dresden leaned down to peer into the car. "And you would be?"

I flashed him a winning smile and said, "My name is John Marcone. I would like to discuss business with you."

I could tell that Dresden was still uncomfortable, but he slid into the back seat of my car after sparing a quick glance at Mr. Hendricks. The radio immediately sputtered and died, and I made a mental note not to bring any delicate electronics to any future magical meetings.

"Mister Dresden, I understand that you work for the police department, from time to time."

"They throw the occasional tidbit my way." I saw his eyes glance back over to Mr. Hendricks. "Hey, Hendricks. You should really wear your seatbelt. Statistics say you're fifty or sixty percent safer."

I noticed Mr. Hendricks glare back at Mr. Dresden, and watched as Mr. Dresden simply beamed smugly back at Mr. Hendricks. I added "insolent" and "sarcastic under pressure" to my mental list of Dresden's attributes.

"Mister Dresden, how much would it cost to retain your services?"

"My standard fee is fifty dollars an hour plus travel expenses, but it can vary depending on what you need done." I could tell that he hadn't expected the question, and had immediately started wondering what I was up to. "Inquisitive" and "quick thinker" went on the list.

"How much would it set me back to have you not investigate something?"

I saw the wheels in his head start turning faster. "You want to pay me not to do something?"

"Let's say I pay you your standard fee. That comes out to fourteen hundred a day, right?"

"Twelve hundred, actually."

I flashed Mr. Dresden another smile. "An honest man is a rare treasure. Twelve hundred a day. Let's say I pay you for two weeks of work, Mister Dresden, and you take some time off. Go catch a few movies, get some extra sleep, that sort of thing."

Dresden eyed me warily. "And for more than a thousand dollars a day, you want me to…?"

"Do nothing, Mister Dresden. Just relax, and put your feet up. And stay out of Detective Murphy's way."

Dresden immediately put the pieces together – I could tell just by looking at him. In the same instant, I could tell he wouldn't take up my offer – he gazed out the car's window, pretending to think about it, but I knew that this man's loyalty was only matched by his stubbornness, and nothing I could offer him would change his mind.

"I've got the money with me," I said, hoping to be wrong for once. "Cash on the spot. I'll trust you to fulfill your end of the deal, Mister Dresden. You come highly recommended for your honesty."

"Mmmm. I don't know John. I'm kind of busy to be accepting any more accounts right now." I didn't let him see how his use of my first name rankled me, but I felt something else besides that. I was annoyed that this wasn't going to be as easy as I'd hoped, but at the same time I felt a strange attraction to a man that could stand up to the lord of Chicago, knowing full well who he is, and tell him "no."

"Mister Dresden, I am quite eager to establish a positive working relationship, here. If it's the money, I can offer you more. Let's say double your usual fee." I steepled my hands in front of me, trying one last time to sway Dresden to my side. "How does that sound?"

"It isn't the money, John. I just don't think it's going to work out." With that, Mr. Dresden casually looked at me full-on and we locked eyes.

When a wizard locks eyes with another mortal, they can see deep inside that person in what is referred to as a "soul-gaze." What they see varies depending on the wizard, but it is, in short, the very essence of the person they gaze upon. The interesting thing about these soul-gazes, however, is that they are reciprocal. While a wizard is allowed to see the innermost being of the mortal they have locked into a gaze with, the mortal is allowed to look back at the wizard, and they are allowed a glimpse into the magical person they are with.

When I gazed upon Harry Dresden, I saw power, and so many possible outlets for that power that I was nearly overwhelmed. I sensed that this man had experienced so much more than would be expected from someone of his age, and could somehow tell that there was exponentially more to come. I saw passion within him – passion for life, for goodness, and for the ideals that he had chosen to uphold. I saw the parts of him that would be weak to temptation, and I saw the parts that fought tirelessly to keep them under control. I saw that this man would not work with me, not only because he was loyal to his friends, but because he saw me as evil. I saw the ideals of an inexperienced man, fresh into the world, which had been tempered by the harsh realities of life. I saw Harry Dresden.

When the moment faded, and I once again looked simply into Mr. Dresden's eyes, I immediately checked my emotions and made my face as bland as it had been before the soul-gaze. I watched as Dresden's eyes grew wide, and guessed that he was reacting to whatever he had seen inside of me. I am a formidable man – I did not envy him at that moment.

"All right then. I won't try to force my offer on you, Mister Dresden. But let me offer you some advice?"

The car was slowing down as it approached Dresden's building by this point. "If you don't charge for it." I could see that he was clearly rattled, and I reaffirmed my notation of "sarcasm under pressure."

"I think you'll be happier if you come down with the flu for a few days. This business that Detective Murphy has asked you to look into doesn't need to be dragged out into the light. You won't like what you see. It's on my side of the fence. Just let me deal with it, and it won't ever trouble you."

"Are you threatening me?" I didn't think he actually believed I was – his argument might have been strengthened had his voice not been shaking so badly.

"No. I have too much respect for you to resort to something like that. Anyone who has the fortitude to stand up to me the way you have has earned at least that much. But think about what I've said, would you? I would as soon not make an enemy of you over this matter."

Dresden clenched his jaw, and I could tell he was still rattled and about to make some kind of overblown, dramatic statement. "Mister Dresden, I do think we could work well together. If you ever feel the need to contact me, please don't hesitate." I saw him freeze for a second as he considered what I'd said.

"I don't think I like your kind of people, John," he retorted as he stepped out of the car. "That's no offense to you, but I think Cujo there in the front seat would probably have a field day tearing me apart if I spent any more time in your car. So, for the time being, why don't we just try staying out of each other's way?" Dresden's eyes were still scared, but also calculating. And he was trying to be friendly, at least.

"Have it your way, Mister Dresden. If you change your mind, here's my card." I pulled out one of my business cards and wrote my personal line's number on the back of it. "It's been a pleasure."

Our fingers brushed for the briefest moment as I handed it to him, and I couldn't suppress a minute gasp as I felt the energy coursing through him. Dresden noticed, and smirked. "Sorry, I've got a shocking personality."

I drew back into the car and said "Mr. Hendricks, take me back to the office, if you please. I do not think I could handle any more bad jokes at the moment." I graced Dresden with a quick smile before we rolled away from the curb. I glanced back and saw him standing at the curb looking after my car with a confused look on his face.

"Well, I think that went rather well," I commented to Mr. Hendricks. Mr. Hendricks simply grunted in reply.

I thought back on what I'd learned during our meeting, and I remained confident that my initial assessment of Dresden's qualities was accurate. I firmly believed that he was a powerful man, and potentially a powerful asset or even ally. As I remembered him jogging down the street away from the hotel, I allowed myself one minor addition to the list.

"Nice ass."


	2. Chapter 2

It's always unfortunate when a meeting is necessitated by unpleasant events, but I was unfortunately about to initiate such a situation. I sat behind the desk with Mr. Hendricks standing off to the side behind me, and waited in the dark for my guest to arrive.

I came seeking the services of Mr. Harry Dresden, Chicago's only openly practicing wizard. Well, the only wizard who advertised his presence in the phone book, at any rate. On the surface, the visit was of dire importance and therefore as impersonal as such things can get – there was a werewolf problem in the city, and I had very good reason to suspect that I was in danger. However, I couldn't suppress a sense of happiness that circumstance had given me cause to meet with Mr. Dresden again. From the moment we met, as cliché as it sounds, I had found myself thinking about the magus nearly every day. I rationalized that my yearning for him derived mainly from the shock of being exposed to his magical essence during our first meeting when we soulgazed, and that my… attraction to him, as it were, was based only on an appreciation for his power and potential. In any case, though, I would be a fool to deny that there was some sort of connection, as tenuous and formative as it was.

And so I sat in the dark, waiting for Mr. Dresden. I came bearing a job offering, as futile as it was to try and change the man's priorities. The ideas he entertained about being "good" and "just," and of being on the right side of the law, were antiquated and annoying, but they were a part of what made him unique. He would reject the golden opportunity I was about to lay before him, which would surprise me none, and I would eventually give him the information he needed to hunt down the monsters threatening the safety of not only myself, but the city at large. I would do this because I had no wish to die, and the surest means I possessed of securing my own safety lay in allowing Mr. Dresden to do his job to the fullest of his potential.

I felt Mr. Hendricks tense up behind me as the elevator down the hall announced someone exiting on our floor. "Easy," I reminded him. "I only need talk to him. I'd rather not have to involve the cleanup crew." Hendricks grunted, which I recognized as his affirmation of my command, and we waited as the door in front of us opened.

When the lights clicked on, Mr. Dresden stood in shock for a moment at the threshold to his office, taking in the sight of a 6'3" bodyguard standing behind his charge, who was comfortably seated at his desk. "Ah, Mr. Dresden. Good. We need to talk."

"Get out of my office." My greeting had obviously not been enough to defuse the surprise Mr. Dresden's shock at seeing me in his office.

"Now, now, Mr. Dresden. Is that any way to talk to a business partner?" I gave him a reproving look.

"I'm not your partner. The police already have enough ideas in their heads about the two of us, and I can't afford to give them any more reasons not to trust me."

"The police," I interjected, "would be best off run by private agencies, rather than public institutions. Better pay, better benefits…"

"Easier to bribe, corrupt, manipulate," Mr. Dresden cut me off. I smiled at him.

"You understand me. I am sorry if our… association has in any way damaged your working relationship with the fine men and women at the Chicago Police Department. You'll believe me when I say that that was in no way my intention, I trust?"

Dresden let out a small sigh. "I believe you, I just wish it didn't have to come at the price it did. I can't say I don't like the idea of your name giving me a little more clout, but it makes it damned hard to work with anyone legitimate."

"Actually, Mr. Dresden, that would be why I'm here. You see, I am in possession of information you would find vitally important to your current investigation. I wish to give you this information, but at a price."

Mr. Dresden stared at me for a moment, then took off his coat. I felt Mr. Hendricks again tense up behind me as he caught sight of Mr. Dresden's blasting rod – a tool used with great skill to partially demolish one of my clubs the previous spring. "What is this price?"

I motioned to Mr. Hendricks, and he produced a folder which I took from him and flipped open onto Mr. Dresden's desk. "This is a contract, Mr. Dresden. It hires you as a consultant for my firm, in personal security. The terms are quite generous. You get to name your own hours, with a minimum of five per month. You can fill in your salary right now. I simply want to formalize our working relationship."

Mr. Dresden walked over to the desk and picked up the folder. I watched him scan the paperwork contained inside, and recognized interest as it briefly passed over his face. However, his expression quickly soured, and he turned back to me. "I'm going to be honest – it's a tempting offer. Really, it is. But I don't like your business, John. I can't agree to something like this, and you know it." Mr. Dresden closed the file and tossed it back onto the table. "Why don't you tell me what you really want from me?"

I instinctively masked the minor irritation I felt as he addressed me so informally. Instead of reacting to it, I leaned forward in Dresden's chair and steepled my fingers. "Mr. Dresden, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't be coy now, John. You and I have only met a few times, but any crime lord worth his salt would have figured me out by now. You came into this office knowing I wouldn't take your deal, which, by the way, I see through. I know you want my protection from the big bad wolf out there, and you know I can't do it. So why pretend? Tell me what it is you really want from me."

I sat back in the chair and contemplated Mr. Dresden. I had expected him to take longer to figure my intentions out, and the fact that he had done so only strengthened my resolve to acquire his services. "All right, Mr. Dresden, you've called me out. I expected nothing less than your dismissal of my offer, I'll admit, and you are right to assume that my intentions derive from the werewolf problem you're currently investigating. However, our current predicament is not the only reason I came tonight." Mr. Dresden raised his eyebrows and motioned for me to continue. "To be frank, Mr. Dresden, you intrigue me. You are a man of singular power and potential, and I can imagine us working together to mutual benefit. My intent, therefore, is as I said – to formalize our working relationship."

Dresden pondered this for a few moments. "What do you mean, exactly, by 'formalize our working relationship' if that contract was just a ruse? You know that I can't be involved with you in any kind of official sense, and even the unofficial stuff is just as likely to get me in trouble."

"Like I said, Mr. Dresden, the last thing I want to do is inconvenience you. With regards to that, I will in fact be circulating the rumor that your role in last spring's events was completely unsolicited and circumstantial. But as for the arrangement I had in mind, I would simply like to sanction the occasional bit of consulting. I am, as you may be aware, entirely capable of keeping secrets when I am so motivated, and I can assure you that any communication we have will be kept strictly confidential."

"So, what, you just want to stop by every now and again to get my take on things?" Mr. Dresden shifted his weight as he thought the proposal through. "Why would you even consider using me as a resource? I mean, I'm sure you've got other consultants. Why me?"

"Because, Mr. Dresden, you are the best there is." I felt uncharacteristically self-conscious complementing the man, and quickly fought to subdue the emotion. "For instance, with regards to the matter we are currently discussing, I have been repeatedly advised to seek your specific counsel. You have great power, and your perfectly legitimate and legal use as a consult would save me the trouble of having to sort through the charlatans and imitators in a probably futile attempt at finding another person of your capabilities."

Dresden rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm guessing you understand that standard fees still apply?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Dresden." At my words, Mr. Hendricks placed an envelope on the desk. "This is an estimation of the sum due at your standard fee at the completion of the current case." Mr. Dresden stepped forward to open the envelope and was greeted by several stacks of bills.

"That looks like a little more than my fee, John." Dresden closed up the envelope and placed it next to his coat on the table near the room's entryway.

"Well, if you'd rather not accept it…"

"Whoa, let's not be too hasty here. I just don't want there to be any miscommunications here."

"Quite right, Mr. Dresden. Consider the remainder a bonus, if you will. A goodwill gesture." I rose from the chair. "So do we have an arrangement, Mr. Dresden?" I extended my hand towards him.

Dresden looked at my hand for a moment, then grasped it and shook. "We've got an arrangement, John."

As he took my hand, my heart started beating faster and I drew in a sharp breath. Dresden looked me in the eyes, and for a moment I could see a reflection of what I felt – an imitation of the same thrill I got from touching his skin. Then the moment was over, and we let our hands fall to our respective sides.

I made my way to the door. "Your first step should be to investigate Harley MacFinn and the Northwest Passage Project, Mr. Dresden. Those two pieces of information should give you a sufficient understanding of the details here. In the interest of your standing with the police department, I shall not be contacting you again anytime soon, but be sure I will be seeing you again in the future."

"Gotcha. Good night, John. You too, Cujo," said Mr. Dresden, referring to Mr. Hendricks. I made a mental note to have a word with Dresden with regards to formal name usage as I stepped out into the hall. Mr. Hendricks followed closely behind and closed the door behind us.

"Boss, how long you gonna let him keep callin' you John? Anyone else and you'd'a had me teach 'em a little respect a long time ago."

At my subordinate's question, I felt a surge of irrational defense for Dresden's cavalier attitude. "Don't fret over it, Mr. Hendricks. It is on my list of things to address." Thinking about the matter, I realized that what bothered me about Dresden's use of my first name wasn't that it was insolent, but that I was unused to it. Somehow, the idea of him using my name actually made me feel… giddy, almost. "I'll have a word with Mr. Dresden concerning the matter," I reassured my bodyguard.

"All right, boss. It's just that if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're lettin' him treat you with disrespect."

"I understand your concern. Mr. Hendricks. However, I am not actually perturbed by Mr. Dresden's use of my name."

"No?" Mr. Hendricks questioned as he called the elevator up to our floor.

"No," I reaffirmed. _I think I like it_, I thought.


End file.
